#fic: blood must have blood | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katyawriteswhump · 1 month ago

Text

omega found, omega lost #4

Chapter 1 on tumblr Chapter 2 on tumblr Chapter 3 on tumblr On AO3

Title: Omega found, Omega lost; Chapter: 4/5; WC: 2356; Rating: E; Tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, nightmares.

for whumptober prompts day 19: blood trail, abandoned cabin, one way out. day 20: emotional angst, and day 22: bleeding through bandages, day 26: nightmares, and day 27: voiceless (yes, whoops, that's a lot of whump!)

Chapter 4: "I have no mouth and I must scream"

Then came the shout: “Alpha—get away from the Omega. Come out now, and if he’s unharmed, we’ll spare you.”

Eddie jumped up, insides wrenching at the small distance between he and Steve, while Steve was so sick. He glanced around, loathing even to rip his eyes from the Omega.

Was there any other way out of the cabin? Could he somehow haul Steve over one shoulder and flee? He’d never wanted to be a clod-headed beefcake kind of Alpha. Right now, it could be helpful. If they could get out. He assessed only the one door and two windows, the closest of which was now shattered and letting in a sleety gale.

An impotent growl escaped him. He grabbed for his damp pants, hoiking them on. He might make it out alone, but he couldn’t leave Steve at the mercy of a baying pack. Even Steve’s own pack. Eddie trusted them less than ever. Was this it… was he gonna die?

All this streaked through his head in a few seconds. He’d not even started to properly lose his shit, before another shout boomed from outside:

“What the heck are you morons doing throwing rocks? What you gonna do next—burn the cabin down?”

Eddie recognised that rumbling voice. Jim Hopper, chief Alpha of the Hawkins pack. Yeah, Wayne always claimed he was a reasonable guy. The idea of handing over Steve to anyone, however trustworthy, gouged like a jackknife in Eddie’s gut. He dashed to the unbroken window, squatted down, and glanced out.

A couple of Alphas—oh, yeah, and Steve’s Beta dad—prowled the thawing snow, carrying rifles and sticks.

Nope. No sneaking out that way.

“You gonna open this door, Alpha, or do I kick it down?” Hopper hammered on the flimsy wood.

“I’m coming.” No choice. No damn choice.

Eddie dragged his shirt on, slunk to the door, pulled the bolt aside. Hopper barged in, and Eddie stood his ground between the larger Alpha and Steve—shoulders squared, fists clenched, his lips peeling back from his gums and his incisor-fangs quickening. He expected the larger Alpha to grab him or go straight for Steve. He wasn’t sure how he was gonna defend the Omega, only that he must.

Should he really make a dash for that shard of glass and slash it at Hopper’s throat?

Hopper’s attention latched straight onto Steve, and he made no sudden move. He closed the door behind, before the rest of the pack could swarm in, which was unexpected: “Christ, tell me he’s alive, Munson.”

Eddie was stunned enough to let Hopper pass.

“Yeah, he’s… he’s alive, okay?” Eddie hurried back to Steve’s side. “I found him caught in a hunter’s trap, and he was bleeding and scared and really, really cold.” Christ, in the minute since he’d unwound his body from Steve’s, the Omega’s lips had turned a worrying shade of blue. “Look, you gotta get him to a hospital. The rest of your pack can…”

Eddie trailed off, mouth hanging open. Stop thinking like a knot-head Alpha and think like Eddie Munson.

He wasn’t gonna beg to be torn to pieces, especially for so little ends. That said, Hopper appeared to have no intention of chewing his head off, at least not literally. Eddie shoulders and spine sagged, and his head drooped: “How many of your goons are out there?”

“There’s a dozen Betas and three more Alphas, all howling for your blood.” Hopper huddled Steve in the blanket and scooped him up into his arms. Eddie bristled at his own helplessness and a tinge of jealousy. “We didn’t even need the blood trail to follow! He’s letting off scent like he’s gone into heat, and we scented you too. Did you knot him?”

“No! I swear on my life.” His sudden fear for Steve proved the most painful stab yet. “You can’t let them punish him, man.”

Hopper effortlessly jostled Steve up a little, so Steve's lolling head rested against his shoulder. “The Omega is the least of your problems, Alpha. If it wasn’t for your uncle, I’d rip your throat out myself, apart from… this is as much my damn fault as yours.” Huh? Eddie hadn’t been expecting that. Nor Hopper’s guilty glance down at Steve. “I should have kept him glued to my side last night. Look, you better get outta here pronto.”

“How?” Eddie flapped his arms around wildly, reverting to the feckless teen he’d been only a couple of years before. “There’s only one way out.”

Hopper chuckled dryly. “Your old man knew different when he hid out here. There’s a panel behind the stove. Took me ages to figure how the crafty old dog gave me the slip. Go. Hide. I’ll draw them away. Make sure nobody torches the place.”

Eddie obeyed, hating it. What choice did he have? While he sensed Hopper had Steve’s best interests at heart, he churned with anger at the whole damn world, and at himself.

Fuck, he was such a terrible Alpha. This proved how unready he was for a soulmate, let alone fatherhood and shit.

He had to let Steve go. Others could take better care of him.

As he hauled aside the stove, he dared not glance over his shoulder, in case he shed an incriminatingly un-Alpha tear.

…

Steve had been sick and hurt. Of that part, he was sure. But he’d been okay.

Eddie’s warm scent and body had enveloped him. The brush of Eddie’s soft lips had comforted him. Then he’d been ripped from that safe cocoon and hurled straight into Hell.

Barbed fangs glinted in an inky blackness, and the beast pounced, fangs piercing deep into Steve’s leg. It lifted him in its jaws and shook him violently, before smashing him into the icy ground, a hunk of dying meat.

He couldn’t hear his own scream after scream after scream. The exposed nerves and tendons in his ankle screamed louder, mocking his silence. The stench of his blood clotted in his nose and clogged up his throat, already shredded by his useless cries and thickened by terror.

Can’t breathe… can’t… can’t…dying… dying… dead? Eddie… Alpha... Please help me… It hurts… Eddieeeeee!

A wall of darkness slammed down. He floated, lost, mercifully senseless. When the dreams kicked off again, they weren’t all so bad. He was in a dingy cellar, chained to a damp brick wall, and… Okay, this was exactly how Tommy H claimed he’d wind up, some rogue Alpha’s plaything.

Steve was fiiiine with it.

Eddie was there, his body slamming Steve’s flush to the bricks. He nuzzled Steve’s throat tenderly, dragging his tongue over Steve’s mating gland. Steve’s every sinew strained toward him, trying to purr and rub into him. He couldn’t glean Eddie’s delicious scent. Violent shudders dragged him back from the cusp of getting slick.

“Eddie?” he whimpered. “Eddie, please? Where are you?”

When Steve finally opened his eyes for real, he squeezed them tight again before daring to peep.

He was in a hospital room. He’d gotten an IV drip attached to his arm, and other scary wires had been attached to his chest, poking out of his hospital gown. His heart lurched, and a green line spiked on a bedside monitor.

How did he get here? Last thing he recalled was Eddie… the cabin… Oh, Christ, what was real and what wasn’t? His head throbbed so hard he feared his skull would crack, and his stomach felt like somebody had punched it.

“Eddie,” he croaked, though nobody was around to hear. “Eddie.”

The next time he stirred, daylight stung his eyes. His mom stood at the door, talking to a doctor, “Mom?” he whispered. She didn’t turn her head. “Mommy?” Okay, that was shameful. “Please… mom? Where’s Eddie?”

His voice couldn’t compete with the penetrating hum of the strip-light.

I’m an Omega, not a pushover.

Yeah. Right.

Holy crap, he couldn’t leave the house alone without screwing up, bigtime, and his voice was little better than that of a ghost’s. Tuning into the doctor’s conversation didn’t exactly help:

“Mrs Harrington, you must understand—your son bled through bundles of fresh bandages after we brought him in, which made little sense. When he was found, he was sick, but his injuries had started to heal. He was never hyperthermic, yet he GOT WORSE. The bleeding has finally stopped, but his vitals have never stabilised.”

“Could he be pregnant, Doctor? Should I book him into an Omega Clinic?”

“It’s hard to tell with Omegas. I wouldn’t want to subject him to any invasive examination, let alone have him moved while he’s so sick.”

“But…”

With pup?

Steve’s blood simmered beneath his clammy cheeks.

And now his mother talked of the Omega clinic. Would she really dump him in that horrible place again, though they’d had to drug him to the eyeballs to survive it? And why, oh why, must he picture Tommy H, cackling in his face?

Did my soulmate fuck me and ditch me? Or was the whole soulmates BS all in my ‘air-brain little head’? Did Eddie knot me and skip town?

Okay, he’d literally been asking for it. He’d begged Eddie for dick and opened his legs to him like a ‘wanton little hussy.’

Was Tommy right about him? Tommy was right! His mom, too?

“I’m no Omega specialist,” the doctor was saying. “However, at this stage, the best remedy may be to find this rogue Alpha your son has been crying out for.”

“Yes. Hunt down that lowlife dog and destroy him for ruining my son.”

Steve’s panic ripped through him like a floodtide. His shallow breaths refused to sooth his clenching lungs, and his skin broke out into a cold sweat. By the time the doctor’s attention slid his way, he was full-on flipping out.

The next few moments passed in a terrifying blur. He fought the suffocating blankets and yanked the wires from his arm and torso, before more than one set of strong hands pinned him down. A sharp prick on his arm was echoed by the cool glide of a needle into his skin. Cool air flowed from the mask placed over his face. He drifted into dreams and that murky basement, wandering it like a spirit.

“Eddie,” he murmured, “Where are you?”

…

Three days.

Three fucking days.

That was how long Eddie had skulked in this dingy brick basement—pacing to keep warm, punching the bricks, wringing his battered hands, and all but ripping his hair out. He’d passed hours squatting in a corner, holding his drooping head.

Christ, he should get the fuck out of Dodge.

Perhaps distance could kill this agony. This crushing misery at knowing Steve was dangerously ill and being unable to see him, let alone do anything about it.

Yet Eddie wasn’t going anywhere, which was lunacy. None of his designs for life included mating a high-class Omega who’d grown up, basically, in a palace. Oh, and Steve’s mom had put a price on his head.

Ten thousand dollars. Dead or Alive. Seriously, where was he living—the Old West? Medieval Europe?

“Why me?” Eddie was muttering, over and over. The soft tap on the basement door set him snarling.

Okay, it was his and Wayne’s secret knock, based on an old Def Leppard guitar riff. Damn, Eddie was skittish as a goddamn Omega. Wayne descended the rickety wooden stairs, and Eddie leaped up, sweeping his heavy unwashed hair from his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Had a visit from Hop and Steve’s dad.”

“Shit!” Eddie buried all eight fingers in his uncombed tresses. “Did they follow you here?”

“What sorta fool do you take me for, son?” Wayne chuckled, squeezing Eddie’s super-taut bicep. Eddie teetered suddenly on the brink of throwing his arms around his uncle and bawling his eyes out. Anything to release the tension thrumming through his every vein. “Wouldn’t have mattered if they did. Hop talks the talk about ripping your throat out, nothing more. I swear to God, he begged for your help.”

Eddie met Hopper around the back of the hospital, near a delivery entrance for the kitchens. On sighting him, Eddie stopped dead, smacked his boot heel loudly onto the ice-hardened asphalt.

The older Alpha’s lips peeled back, hostile vibes billowing from him. Then Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned:

“Okay, Munson, stand down.” He hurled some scrubs at Eddie. “Gonna smuggle you in. Apparently, your Omega pepped up no end on learning we were trying to contact you on the sly. Even the docs are bleating on about the soulmate bond—it’s the worst case of rejection sickness in living memory. So, yeah, let’s move. We’ll deal with the nuclear fallout in the morning.”

Eddie pulled on the scrubs and tied back his hair, using a scrunchie he was pretty sure Hop had swiped off his daughter. He followed the Chief through the quiet corridors, struggling to get his head together.

Soulmate bond. Rejection sickness. Some doctor had more or less prescribed Eddie as a cure? He snatched a swift, fortifying breath.

You got this, Munson. Make your Omega well again, and everything else is gonna be child’s play…

…hahaha, seriously? You gonna rob a bank or something?

Screw it. Perhaps he would.

After they’d passed through the dark kitchens, Eddie sensed something off. He’d smelled Steve over a mile off in a snowy forest, and yet… Okay, maybe that was Steve’s musk he detected, heavily interwoven with others,’ and faint beneath the tang of chemicals.

It was way too faint and soured with a bitter tang that set Eddie’s guts flipping.

He shoved past Hopper and sprinted up the corridor. He followed his nose up several flights of stairs. Along a dark corridor, he almost collided with an angry nurse, then he rounded a corner and slammed into Steve’s dad. Eddie braced the Beta and shook him, taken aback by huge, scared hazel-brown eyes, startlingly like Steve’s: “What is it? Is Steve okay?”

“I-I don’t know. He’d been on the mend since I promised to find you. I came over to break the news you were on your way… and he’s gone and discharged himself.”

...

Chapter 5.1 (it's gonna be fine, okay!?!)

Please like and reblog if you’re feeling kind 🥰 it’s so very much appreciated ❤️

tags: @wheneverfeasible @mugloversonly @ellietheasexylibrarian

@strawberryyyenthusiast @stripey82

If anybody else fancies reading more, I would be happy to tag :) Or follow #katya's omega whump

My endless outpourings of Steve whump can be found on AO3 here :)

28 notes · View notes

amorhedera6 · 1 year ago

Text

i’m giving everyone lore bc i can’t help myself sorry not sorry.

(ruth’s tragic backstory under the cut)

ruth joleigh flemming is the second born child of five. her older brother, nathaniel, is two years older than her. he is the family golden child that does no wrong, he got all the good genes, attractive, taller. he played baseball and was popular in high school. in the hallways he would pretend not to see her, refused to acknowledge her, made her walk home when he drove his friends so he wouldn’t be associated with her. he’s their parents favorite and can do nothing wrong.

ruth on the other hand is only useful of invisible. she is given the most chores, is asked to watch her younger siblings constantly, expected to follow a curfew nathaniel never had. her parents marriage follows traditional gender roles, roles they push fiercely into their children, and ruth is put to work the most. she’s not allowed to drive her parents car when nathaniel was, etc.

her next sibling, henry, is three years younger than her. he is kinder than nathaniel, also often invisible to their parents, for he is more academic than his older brother. he likes science and is always holed up in his room working on smothering or other. he loves animals and learning about them, wants to be a vet. he and ruth walk home with richie every day (bc richie lives a few houses down). he’s quiet, mostly keeps to himself.

after henry is melanie, who’s only a year younger. she also has a lot of expectations on her to be a good girl, good wife, etc. all that sexist, 50s house wife bullshit. ruth tries to shield her from it by doing most of the work, but melanie is a better, less sarcastic help in the kitchen, so she often had to help their mom with the food. she does gymnastics, is really good at too, but her parents write it off as just a hobby. she could do really well professionally if her parents took it seriously.

the youngest is harvey, who’s two years younger than melanie. he does a lot of sports, but all of them in the kid way where he doesn’t really do anything. he likes soccer the best, and wants to continue that when he gets older. he’s a boy scout and plays a lot of video games. he’s the stereotype of the youngest sibling, he gets whatever he wants and doesn’t realize it.

ruth was put in dance at 4 because her mother danced as a kid, and she absolutely loved it. ballet and tap, but she wasn’t graceful enough for ballet. tap she stuck with for a long time. she had this class with peter, who she became friends with at like 12ish. she was expected to be a dancer because it was feminine and quiet and all that shit, so she became insecure about her loudness and lonely. she quit dance in her freshman year when she was picked for a dance solo and had a panic attack on stage.

she fell in love with theatre and joined the tech booth. she wanted to perform, but couldn’t get herself back on stage after what happened. she watched the shows from the back of the auditorium with jealousy.

she knew she was bi watching shake it up bc she fell in love w zendaya at 8. she never told her parents bc she knew it wasn’t worth the hassle. she knows they won’t believe her, will think it’s a phase, and thinks it’s better to just leave it all alone. it’s not like she’s ever getting a girlfriend anyways.

she hates wearing skirts, but if she goes like two weeks wearing just pants her mom sits her down and talks to her about being a proper lady. she’d rather just wear them then hear any of it. she wears a skirt every other thursday and it’s enough that her parents only give her looks instead of actually talking to her.

she likes star wars, absolutely hated the choices made in the new ones but watches them anyway bc the people are all hot. she has star wars merch and shit in her room but not too much bc it’s a “boyish” interest.

she had long dark curls her whole life, hates them. hates managing them, hates the curl routine, hates having such long hair, so in a fit of rage had richie and pete chop it all off in the middle of the night her sophomore year. she got it touched up by her moms hairdresser, but refuses to let it grow any more.

she got her headgear the summer before eighth grade, when she was 13, and has had it ever since. she despises it, but refuses to admit it to anyone but richie and peter. she owns it, matches her clothes to it, acts like she doesn’t give a shit when people call her metalhead or something equally uncreative.

she inherited her fathers anger issues. she keeps a lot of it inside bc she hates social interaction if she isn’t close to a person, but it makes her have a lot of hate for people who annoy her. like trevor, who always mixes up his cue lines and makes her look bad. or caitlin, who likes to spend her breaks annoying ruth in the tech booth.

(caitlin actually has a crush on ruth and has for years, but ruth’s so annoyed with someone pose being in her safe space that she can’t tell she’s being flirted with.)

her parents don’t want her to work, so she can spend time at the house looking after her siblings, cleaning, and all that, so she doesn’t have a job. her parents also don’t want her to go to college, since they think it’s unnecessary. she still applied to schools all over the country to get the fuck out of hatchetfield. she’s marked her major down as math, since she’s okay at it, but she has no interest in doing it with her life. she has no idea what she wants to do. (that’s not true. she wants to act. dance. perform. but she has absolutely no faith in herself, her talent, her ability to overcome her anxiety, so. math it is.)

she’s never told anyone this, she’s ignoring it and pretending she didn’t, but she did send a self tape to a drama school in california. she hasn’t heard back, though.

her favorite color is red, which is why she picked it for her headgear when they made her chose. she likes it because she can get away with wearing it in masculine ways since it’s close enough to pink, but it also represents fire, anger. she thinks color theory is super interesting. she had to learn it when her mom made her learn about flowers, and the flowers part bored her to death, but she loves colors.

her father is named walter, he’s a business executive about thirty years older than her mother. her mother, doreen, wants desperately to be a stay at home mom, but they can’t afford it, so she works at a flower shop. she says that if you must work in life, it might as well be a position for a lady. she still makes dinner every night. she only wears dresses and heels. sometimes ruth thinks her mother was brainwashed or something.

because ruth’s sanctuary is her grandparents. her mothers parents are not at all the stereotypical housewife/working husband couple. they are fiercely strong and interesting people with interesting stories to tell. from their stories, her mom used to be the same way, at one point. she went to college for prelaw, and dropped out her sophomore year after meeting walter. they say she changed a lot, but they don’t talk about it enough for ruth to get real details. she can only pull them by their teeth if they have a lot to drink, which they don’t often do. it’s a mystery shes piecing together slowly.

she knows her parents don’t care about her much. they don’t give a shit about her grades, never go to parent teacher conference night, stopped going to her dance recitals when she was ten, never came to one of the shows she worked on with the school. she was only ever scolded but never really treated like their daughter, more like a misbehaving help they need to set right.

they never hit her, but she’s well aware she’ll be fucked up forever. she is counting down the days until she gets to college and she can get a tattoo and burn her skirts and go to therapy. she loves her friends, and her siblings (most of the time), but she despises hatchetfield and her parents.

she can’t wait to get out.

(she never gets out.)

9 notes · View notes